Precious
by tryandstunme
Summary: Ezreal explores the Floating Pyramids. This fic is dark. Full warnings inside.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Some of you may recognize this from when I posted the intro/part one on here. I decided the intro was too long so I got rid of a bunch of it and added more to the end. **WARNING: CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE AND TORTURE**. I can be such a sadist sometimes...poor Ezreal. This fic is NOT for the faint of heart. Proceed with caution.

* * *

Ezreal was in a long, dark hallway that stretched as far as he could see in both directions. He raised his torch and could faintly see the square hole in the floor, the entrance to the largest Floating Pyramid, way down the hall - had he really walked that far already? There were no doorways or anything that he could see, but he was bound to find one eventually. The cool air in the corridor provided a stark contrast to the Shurima Desert outside, and it felt nice against Ezreal's bare skin. He had removed his shirt as soon as he was out of the sun's damaging rays, and it was now slung out of his way over his shoulder.

He found several doors along the hall, but found that all of them were sealed shut and he could not open them, no matter how hard he tried. None of them seemed to have any kind of handles, either - they were just blank slabs of wood with hinges. That was certainly strange. Oh well, he would come back to these doors. Meanwhile, he had to find one that he could actually open.

When Ezreal was almost ready to turn back and try going the other direction, he reached the end of the long hallway. There was one larger, ornately carved wooden door here - all the other doors had been plain, but this one was covered in strange markings consisting of swirly lines and dots. _Looks like some kind of foreign language,_ thought Ezreal as he examined the door under torchlight. What he could only assume to be words were carved around every edge of the door, but he had no idea what they said. Perhaps they were explaining the large, detailed painting in the middle of the door. It seemed to depict some kind of huge purple oval with several little people around it. Looking closer, Ezreal saw that every person was carefully painted with unique facial features and hairstyles - and all were cringing away from the oval, their faces contorted in terror. One of them had blond hair, and it almost looked like . . . nah, that was impossible. Ezreal shrugged off the chill creeping up his spine and gave the door a hard push.

When the door creaked open, Ezreal was disappointed to see that the room behind it was completely empty. He stepped inside and looked around, but he saw nothing interesting - only bare stone walls and a bare stone floor. This room did seem distinctly colder than the hallway, but otherwise, there was nothing remarkable about it. Still, a door that ornate wouldn't conceal an empty room, Ezreal was sure of it. There must be a secret here, and he was determined to find it. Maybe there was a secret passage that could only be opened by touching the right brick in the wall, or stepping in just the right place on the floor. But even after nearly half an hour of thorough investigation, Ezreal still found nothing.

"Oh, come on!" he cried out in frustration. To Ezreal's shock, a panel slid open in the back wall in reaction to his voice. The explorer stood slack-jawed for several moments. _What the hell is this place..?_ he wondered as he gazed into the blackness beyond. Well, there was only one way to find out, and Ezreal certainly wasn't one to turn away from the opportunity for discovery. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

_Jackpot!_ thought Ezreal when he saw what was in the room. Enormous mountains of sparkling gems, glittering coins, and shining trinkets rose up every wall. Ezreal didn't even know where to begin. This room was full of so much history, he could practically taste it. In truth, he wasn't even thinking about the fact that this room alone could probably buy all the land in Valoran – he just wanted to learn more about the people who had put it here.

After placing his torch into a conveniently-placed bracket on the wall, he decided to start with a pile in the far corner that looked like mostly coins – they were sure to be engraved with some markings that told of the civilizations of long ago. But when he got close enough to pick one up and examine it, he groaned with disappointment. Before the League of legends was created, coins weren't stamped with dates – nothing was. There was no telling how old these coins were. They could be only a few years old, or they could be centuries old, or millennia. Although, it was strange; they were all as shining, untarnished, and dust-free as though they'd been minted yesterday. In fact, all of the treasures in this room looked brand new. _Although,_ Ezreal supposed, _if a pyramid stays sealed for so long, nothing can really get in to mess everything up._

He put the coin back and looked around for interesting trinkets. There were some gold cups, silver plates, and various shiny gems, but nothing really stood out. Except – what was that? In the opposite corner of the room, a blue gleam on the wall caught his eye. Something over there was reflecting the light in a way Ezreal had never seen before. He walked to the pile - and gasped when he saw what the object was.

Right on top of the pile was the largest, most beautiful and perfectly round stone Ezreal had ever seen. It was the color of the Piltover sky on a clear summer day, and it was set in a ring that gleamed like sunshine in the dark room. He picked up the surprisingly heavy jewel and turned it over in his hands. It was flat on one side and slightly domed on the other, and the surface was so smooth Ezreal could barely feel it beneath his fingers. The chain was made of tiny, uniform links of a metal that resembled gold but was both sturdier and more lustrous. The firelight danced off the surface, throwing gold and turquoise reflections onto the walls like the sun reflecting off the ocean, burning its image into Ezreal's eyes. At some angles, the gem was opaque, and at others, he could almost see his hands through it. Merely looking at this amulet was hypnotizing, but holding it was electrifying. Ezreal had told himself he wouldn't take anything…but this…this was his. He wanted it. He needed it.

He draped the chain around his neck.

The cold amulet sent tingles across Ezreal's bare chest. It felt . . . right, somehow, being against his skin like this, but its heaviness was more apparent now that he was wearing it. He would certainly have to find some other way to attach it to his body. He didn't know what kind of power the stone possessed - he felt certain it must have some - but he'd need a realistic way to wield it. Wearing it as a necklace would work for now, but Ezreal figured he'd get another idea as he explored more of the pyramid. At any rate, this room no longer held his interest, so he turned to leave, but froze in shock when he saw that there was someone standing in the doorway.

"Well, well, well," said the boy who was leaning on the door frame. From his voice, Ezreal guessed that they were about the same age, although it was hard to tell because the stranger had most of his face covered with a purple hood. His attire led Ezreal to believe he must be a native of a nearby desert village. His dark eyes, the only feature visible, showed a hint of amusement, and his tanned arms were folded across his chest. "It seems I've caught a thief."

"Uh, what?" said Ezreal, puzzled. "Me?"

The boy scoffed. "No, the other person in this room," he sneered, unfolding his arms and standing up straight with one hand on his hip. "Yes, you. You're not a very smart thief, are you?"

Ezreal frowned. "I'm not a thief," he protested, choosing to ignore the other insult.

"Then what's that around your neck?" said the boy slyly, pointing to the amulet. Ezreal's hand darted up instinctively and wrapped around the gem. He suddenly felt very protective of it; he was almost afraid that this stranger would try to snatch it away from him. Taking the amulet didn't really feel like stealing, but what was he supposed to say? He was destined to have it? That was really lame, and this stranger probably wouldn't buy it anyway. In fact, he felt ridiculous even thinking about it. He really wished he had pulled the ladder up after he climbed it - how had this person managed to get in without Ezreal hearing his footsteps? And who was he to call the explorer a thief, anyway?

"It's something I found," Ezreal said defensively, removing his hand from the jewel and folding his own arms. "What's it to you? What are you doing here?"

The boy chuckled. His laugh was cold and dry. "My name is Malzahar. I happen to live around here. If I told you how I knew you'd be here, you wouldn't believe me." A smile crept into Malzahar's voice. "Let's just say I had a hunch, so I came to check it out. I'm surprised you discovered how to get in, though," he continued, shifting his weight toward Ezreal. "It's a secret my people have guarded for centuries, specifically to keep out the likes of you. We don't like thieves, you see. In fact . . ." he pulled down his hood, revealing messy brown hair and a sinister smirk, "if anyone from my village found out about this, they would be very displeased indeed."

Ezreal folded his arms more tightly across the amulet. "It's just one little thing," he grudgingly managed. He wished he wouldn't have to explain himself to this stranger, but the fact remained that the boy was blocking the doorway, so Ezreal would clearly have to talk him into moving somehow. He didn't feel like getting into any kind of physical altercation.

"I wasn't gonna take anything else," Ezreal continued, trying desperately to keep the words from sounding like a plea. "I was actually on my way out right now. I'll go home and never come back to bother you or your people or your pyramid ever again."

Malzahar, however, did not move. He just stared at Ezreal, that sinister smirk still on his face. Something about his eyes made the explorer feel very uneasy, and for some reason, he suddenly remembered he was still not wearing his shirt. Malzahar took one step towards Ezreal, who took one step backwards in response.

"I can see things, you know...things others can't," said the stranger, taking another step towards Ezreal. Ezreal tried to back away more, but he tripped over a mountain of treasure and fell backwards onto the pile. He shrank back against the wall as Malzahar leaned over him. "I know that you want this amulet more than you've wanted anything in your entire life. And I know that you will do anything to leave here with it. But, I can't let you do that." He straightened up and rested his hands on his hips again. "I'll tell you what, though: give me the amulet now, and it's technically not stealing. I'll let you leave and we'll just pretend none of this ever happened. How does that sound?"

A wave of panic washed over Ezreal at the thought of relinquishing the amulet. "And what if I say no?"

Malzahar's lips curled back up into another smirk. "Then I guess I'll just have to take it from you."

Before Ezreal could react, the stranger lunged at him, seizing the gem and attempting to pull it over Ezreal's head. The explorer grabbed Malzahar's arms and managed to stop him, but he felt his own arms slowly giving out - Malzahar was stronger than him. He suddenly wished he'd paid more attention at the Academy of Magic.

"Let go!" Ezreal grunted. He was surprised at how childish he sounded. "It's mine! I found it!" Only one thought was one his mind: hold onto the amulet at any cost.

"It doesn't belong to you," hissed Malzahar angrily, and in one sudden motion, he managed to pin Ezreal's wrists to the wall on either side of his head. No matter how Ezreal struggled, he could not free himself, and Malzahar's face broke into a sinister grin. His face darted toward toward Ezreal's chest.

"H-hey, what are you-" Ezreal stammered in protest, but Malzahar had grabbed the amulet's chain in his teeth and swiftly pulled it over Ezreal's head. He stood up and transferred it to his hand, but before he could issue any kind of snappy taunt, the explorer tackled him around the middle and knocked him to the floor. Ezreal ripped the jewel out of Malzahar's hands, jumped to his feet, and planted a foot on Malzahar's chest, pushing him to the ground.

"You can't have it!" Ezreal snarled. His voice didn't even sound like his own anymore. "It's mine!" He made a run for the door, but two strong hands gripped his ankle, and he fell to the ground. He couldn't hold in a cry of pain as he landed hard on his elbows, and the amulet slipped from his hands and rolled across the room. Ezreal started to leap after it, but a heavy weight on his back pressed him flat against the floor, and he realized Malzahar was sitting on him. He tried to push himself up and throw his attacker off, but soon found his arms pinned flat to the floor.

"Let me tell you a secret," Malzahar murmured into Ezreal's ear. "You are fated to possess this amulet. I can sense it. It calls to you; its essence runs through your veins even as we speak."

_Wow, and I thought I was crazy, _thought Ezreal._ At least it isn't just me, though - I really _am _meant to have it. _"What the hell are you talking about?" he grunted. Malzahar was heavy, and Ezreal was struggling to breathe properly.

"The amulet wants you almost as badly as you want it. For that reason, I cannot allow you to leave this place with it . . . not for free, anyway."

Ezreal's blood went cold.

"What do you want from me?" he asked. He miraculously managed to keep his voice steady, despite his heart racing out of control, beating against his ribcage with so much force that surely the other boy must be able to feel it. Malzahar chuckled and turned Ezreal over onto his back.

"Isn't it obvious?" purred Malzahar, leaning over the captive he was now straddling. Ezreal shuddered and tried to tell himself it wasn't obvious. He told himself that those dark brown eyes were not brimming with lust, that that velvety voice was not dripping with seduction, and that there wasn't a suspicious bulge appearing in Malzahar's pants. But even as Ezreal told himself these things, he couldn't ignore the evidence that they were all lies.

Malzahar rose to his knees and untied the sash holding up his pants, pulling them down just far enough to expose his hardening length. Ezreal's eyes widened and he scrambled to his elbows to attempt to pull himself out from under Malzahar, but before he could move at all, two hands twisted tightly into his hair, holding him in place.

"Open your mouth," Malzahar commanded as Ezreal tried to struggle out of his grip. He clamped his lips shut tightly. _There's no way-_ "Do you want the amulet or don't you?"

_Dammit, _thought Ezreal. _How did I get myself into this?_ He didn't answer the question, and merely glared upward at Malzahar, as much to convey his anger as to avoid looking at the . . . object directly in front of his face. Malzahar must have found Ezreal's expression amusing, since another smile was beginning to form.

"If you satisfy me, then I give my word, I shall allow you to leave here with the amulet. Do we have a deal?"

Was he serious? Did he really think Ezreal would trust him? In the few minutes since they'd met, he had called Ezreal stupid and a thief, and now had him in a terribly compromising position. Then again, he'd also said that he somehow knew Ezreal was 'fated' to have it and that he had also somehow known Ezreal would be in this pyramid at all. Of course, it was also possible that he was merely out for a walk or something and happened to see Ezreal climb up the ladder, and had said those things just to mess with him. In any case, Malzahar was obviously stronger than Ezreal, so if he wanted to kill him, he could have done so by now, and Ezreal certainly wouldn't be able to escape from him anyway. _I mean . . . what's the real harm, anyway? Should I do it? . . . Do I even really have a choice?_

". . . Fine."

"Well then, I suggest you start sucking." Before Ezreal could say another word, Malzahar thrust his hips forward, pushing half his length into Ezreal's mouth.

"Mmglph-!" he choked in protest, but Malzahar's firm grip on his hair prevented him from actually pulling off of the shaft.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, it's terribly rude," Malzahar said with a snicker. "And I'd better not feel any teeth, or our deal is off."

And with that, Malzahar began thrusting his hips, moving slowly in and out of Ezreal's mouth. A few times, he forced it in too deep, and Ezreal's hands flew up to push back, but a quick glance upward showed that Malzahar was pleased with the strangled gagging sound the action drew. After a minute or so, he detangled his hands from the blond hair. But when Ezreal tried to pull back, he felt a hand on the back of his head.

"Ah-ah-ah, not yet," taunted Malzahar. "I want _you_ to do it. Use your tongue."

Ezreal turned his blue eyes upward to glare at Malzahar again. _Think of the amulet,_ he reminded himself as he grudgingly obliged. _Do it for the amulet._ He moved his head back and forth, sweeping his tongue along the underside, flicking it across the head. He glanced up occasionally to check for a reaction, and couldn't help feeling proud when he saw Malzahar's eyes slide shut with pleasure. He felt fingers toying idly with his hair as he bobbed his head, the hands encouraging him to go faster, and small moans of ecstasy from above him.

"Nn . . . I'm . . . I'm gonna . . . nnh . . ." gasped Malzahar. His hands wrapped tightly into Ezreal's hair as he thrust his entire length in and held it. Ezreal was unprepared for the intrusion and felt his eyes begin to water as he tried not to gag on the liquid pumping into his throat. Spots appeared in his vision as his lungs cried out for oxygen. He placed both palms on Malzahar's hips and pushed, trying to remove the blockage from his throat so he could breathe, but Malzahar was too strong and held him down until every drop had leaked out.

"Swallow it," he breathed, and although Ezreal's vision had gone black and he was sure he would pass out if he didn't get some air _right now, _he obeyed, gagging slightly as he gulped down the last drops of the thick substance. Malzahar released him and he yanked his head backwards, drawing in a much-needed breath of air, but the remnants of fluid and saliva flew into his windpipe and he rolled onto his side, coughing violently.

"Wonderful," exclaimed Malzahar, slightly out of breath, grinning ear-to-ear as he moved to sit in front of Ezreal. "Now take off your pants."

"Wh-what?" cried Ezreal incredulously between coughs. "B-but- *cough* -you said- *cough* -"

"I _said_ you had to _satisfy_ me," Malzahar stated matter-of-factly. "Well, I'm not satisfied. Either take your pants off yourself, or I will do it for you. But I assure you, it will hurt less if you cooperate."

"W-wait- *cough* -can I just have a minute to- *cough cough* -" but Malzahar had already begun toying with the Ezreal's belts. In moments, his nimble fingers had managed to undo the fastenings completely, and despite Ezreal's struggles, he felt his pants yanked down to his knees.

Ezreal flushed bright crimson. "Wait! Please, stop!" _The Prodigal Explorer, reduced to begging,_ thought Ezreal to himself as the words left his lips._ How pathetic._

But Malzahar did not stop. He settled himself between Ezreal's legs and bent over to run his tongue slowly up the center of the explorer's chest. Ezreal grabbed Malzahar's hair and tried to shove him away, but Malzahar grabbed Ezreal's wrists and pushed them to the floor. His soft lips grazed over Ezreal's collarbones, planting gentle kisses in some places and latching on and sucking hard in others, nuzzling gently in between bites that drew blood, drawing hisses of pain and gasps of pleasure until the sounds ran together and neither boy could tell which was which.

Ezreal could feel his body disobeying his mind as arousal slowly crept over him. This fact did not go unnoticed, and Malzahar grinned as he wrapped a hand around Ezreal's length and began to stroke.

"Nnh . . . stop it . . ." groaned Ezreal weakly, trying to push Malzahar off of him. The oxygen deprivation and tactile confusion was catching up to him, and euphoric shivers coursed through his body from his lower abdomen, mingling with the lightheadedness to sap every ounce of strength from his arms. Malzahar snickered at Ezreal's feeble attempts at resistance as he continued to nip at the explorer's neck.

Suddenly, Malzahar raised a hand to Ezreal's mouth and pushed two fingers between his lips. Too tired to think properly, Ezreal merely swiped his tongue across the digits, slathering them with a thick coating of saliva. Just as suddenly as they were introduced, they were removed, and a moment later, Ezreal felt Malzahar's fingers "exploring" an area that he would prefer be left unexplored.

"Hnn, s-stop that!" Ezreal's hands flew out to grip Malzahar's arm and try to pull it away, but it was no good - he was too strong.

"Shh, it will feel good, don't worry. But you've really got to _relax_." With this last word, Malzahar slid one finger inside. Ezreal cried out in a mixture of shock and pain and tried to contort himself out of the Malzahar's reach, but a hand pushed his hips back down to the floor and held him there as another finger was inserted.

"Ah! That hurts! Stop!" Agonized tears welled up in Ezreal's eyes, and he gritted his teeth to try and take his mind off the pain as Malzahar scissored his fingers, stretching the opening. Ezreal cried out in pain again, but this time he was silenced mid-yelp by a pair of lips pressing against his own and a tongue forcing its way into his mouth.

The kiss was fierce and wet and painful. Malzahar nibbled Ezreal's lip, Ezreal bit Malzahar's tongue, they both tasted blood but neither knew whose it was. Suddenly Malzahar removed his fingers and replaced them with something much larger and much more painful. Ezreal whimpered pitifully into Malzahar's mouth, but if anything this served only to encourage him. Pain bloomed upward as Malzahar put his other hand on Ezreal's hip and began thrusting, and to Ezreal's further embarrassment, he felt tears streaming down his face.

"You're loud," Malzahar said, frowning as he pulled away from Ezreal's lips.

"You're hurting me," Ezreal gasped in reply. "What do you expect?"

"It's not as if anyone can hear you, of course," Malzahar continued, chuckling. "You can scream as loud as you want and no one will come to save you." He thrust again into Ezreal, who cried out and dug his fingernails into Malzahar's arms. Malzahar paused and tilted his head to the side as he gazed down at the boy. Seeing the tears pour out had its own sick appeal, but he really was annoyingly loud. After another moment of thought, Malzahar swiftly pulled the sash from the waistband of his pants, wadded it up, and stuffed it into Ezreal's mouth, muffling his cries.

"Much better," Malzahar purred as he resumed his previous actions. Ezreal reached up to pull the makeshift gag out, but Malzahar caught his wrists in one hand, then pulled them up over Ezreal's head and pinned them to the floor.

"Come now, what good will that do?" he bent over, pressed his lips to Ezreal's neck, and sucked, drawing more whimpers and more squirming as he created yet another bruise on the soft skin there. Malzahar decided to slightly alter his angle of entry, and the response was immediate - Ezreal's back arched off the floor and a muffled moan escaped through the gag. Malzahar's lips curled into a smile and he repeated the action.

As the new pleasurable sensations wracked Ezreal's body, he squeezed his eyes shut to try and keep the angry tears inside. At least when he'd been in pain, he had known he'd wanted it to end. Now, with this, he didn't know what he wanted. He felt the hand on his hip slide around to the front and begin to stroke him, and he couldn't suppress another moan. Malzahar continued to painfully stimulate his body from the inside out until he could take it no more and released all over his stomach and Malzahar's. As the pleasure slowly trickled out of his body, it was replaced by sharper and sharper waves of pain until his entire body was consumed with agony. His cries through the gag fell on deaf ears as Malzahar continued thrusting.

"Hold still," he sneered. "I'm not finished with you yet." He leaned over Ezreal and used his body weight to minimize the boy's squirming. Ezreal cracked his eyes open to scan Malzahar's face for any sign of sympathy, any kindness at all, but found none. Instead, all he saw was the shine in Malzahar's eyes that signified the nearing of the end of this ordeal, and Ezreal squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

Finally, Malzahar's thrusts slowed and Ezreal knew he was done. He winced slightly as Malzahar withdrew himself and backed away, nose wrinkling as he wiped off his stomach with Ezreal's shirt which had unceremoniously fallen to the floor nearby. Ezreal removed the wadded up sash from his mouth and stood gingerly, pulling his own pants up as he did so. His legs felt like jello, his throat was sore, his wrists ached, and those weren't even the worst of the pains. He dreaded the journey home - maybe Malzahar would leave now and he could just rest here for the night. He glanced over to where the desert dweller had moved to and saw that he was simply standing by the door with his arms folded, smirking at Ezreal. For the umpteenth time that day, a chill ran up his spine.

He resisted the urge to say something, anything at all, to Malzahar, and instead began scanning the floor for the amulet. He spotted it across the room and immediately felt relieved. At least he had what he wanted. Whatever had just transpired, he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget - but it was okay, because he had the amulet.

Or, he would, soon. Malzahar was standing directly between Ezreal and his prize. _Oh well, it's mine now, right? _Ezreal thought._ I'm sure he won't stop me if I just . . . go for it._ He moved to step around Malzahar, giving him a wide berth, feeling those deep brown eyes boring into him with every step. The amulet was in his view, was at his feet, all he had to do was pick it up -

Ezreal found himself roughly shoved face first into the wall. His heart sank.

"Aren't you satisfied yet?" he groaned. Malzahar laughed coldly in Ezreal's ear and pulled his arms behind his back. Ezreal felt his wrists being wrapped with some kind of damp cloth, and he realized with horror that it was the sash from earlier and the dampness was his own saliva.

"Nearly," Malzahar cooed. "You're still a thief, after all."

"You said I was meant to have it!" Ezreal protested, trying and failing to struggle out of the binding.

Malzahar spun Ezreal around and pinned him against the wall with his forearm over the explorer's throat. Ezreal froze when he saw what Malzahar held in his other hand.

"What's that for?" he asked, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. Malzahar grinned. The gleam in his eye perfectly the matched the gleam of the torchlight on the steel in his hand.

"The amulet belonged to someone else before you. You didn't buy it and it wasn't a gift, so obviously you've stolen it." He spoke slowly and clearly as he waved the blade back and forth like a pendulum across Ezreal's vision. "Where I'm from, we mark thieves. Unfortunately, thievery isn't punishable by death, but that doesn't mean we can just let thieves run around undetected."

Ezreal swallowed. He did not take his eyes off the blade.

"What do you mean, 'mark'?" he asked, voice cracking. He was afraid of the answer.

Malzahar's grin widened. "They are given the mark of a thief, of course. Sort of a warning to others, if you will. A sign that the person to whom they are speaking is not someone who can be trusted. We use a system of symbols to mark community evildoers for everyone's sake," he elaborated further. Ezreal could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. "For adulterers, we use X's. For vandals, rings. And for thieves, triangles."

Malzahar kept moving the blade.

"Maybe you're wondering why I chose to bind your arms instead of gagging you," he drawled. "I suppose if I really wanted, I could have done both. But the truth is," he hesitated and stopped the blade in front of Ezreal's left eye. "I want to hear you scream."

Malzahar moved so quickly, Ezreal didn't even have time to flinch before the arm across his throat was removed and the sharpened steel was pressed into his cheekbone. His agonized screams echoed off the walls and filled the room as Malzahar's fingers wound tightly into Ezreal's blond hair to keep him from jerking away. Excruciating pain whited out his vision and his nails clawed frantically at the wall behind him, the sash chafing against his wrists as he tried to free his arms. He tried to kick at Malzahar's legs but they still felt like jelly, and Malzahar had no trouble dodging the kicks. Every motion Ezreal made did nothing but aggravate the pain he still felt from the earlier assault, but despite that, despite the growing pain and despite his draining strength and breaking spirit, Ezreal continued to struggle.

"If you don't sit still," Malzahar said, voice dripping with amusement, "I might screw up. If you're going to have these markings on your pretty face for the rest of your life, don't you at least want them to be straight?"

It was at that moment that Ezreal's knees finally gave out. Another stab of pain jolted across his cheek as the knife was removed, and his scalp burned as Malzahar tried to hold Ezreal up by the hair and failed, allowing him to slide down the wall to the floor. A weight on his lap and the return of the rough grip on his hair told him Malzahar was straddling him and his cruelty was only beginning. Sure enough, in the next moment, the dull pain on the side of his face flared up, and an involuntary cry of anguish escaped his throat. Though his eyes were barely slitted, he could clearly make out Malzahar grinning at the sound. Liquid streamed down Ezreal's face and he couldn't tell whether it was blood, tears, or both. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of his own screaming as his vision went white again, and he saw stars briefly before the pain heightened, and then returned to a dull ache. His vision didn't even have time to return before the agony was transferred to the other side of his face and doubled. Blood pounded in his ears.

Ezreal must have blacked out for some time, as this side seemed to be finished much more quickly than the previous, and the pain on this side faded to a dull ache as well. He could not feel any part of his face and barely managed to force his eyes open. His vision was blurry. Worse, the act of opening his eyes sent a jolt of pain with a wave of nausea to his stomach, and he doubled over and ejected its contents onto the floor beside him. He felt Malzahar's hands on his shoulders dragging him away from the mess, but didn't hear Malzahar's disgusted gasp or the sound of his own pitiful groans. The next moment, his hands were freed and Malzahar returned the sash to its place around his own waist.

"Here," Malzahar said, and something thunked to the ground next to Ezreal's head. He cracked his eyes open. It was the amulet. Ezreal gazed into its oceanic depths for several long minutes before Malzahar spoke again. "Why do you want to join the League, Ezreal?"

"I don't," he replied in robotic monotone. "The amulet's power forces me to be here."

"You could get rid of the amulet," came Not-Malzahar's response with a shrug. "Nobody's forcing you to be here."

Get rid of the amulet? The world swirled and Ezreal was lying on the floor of the dimly lit Great Hall. He raised his left hand to his eyes, and sure enough, there was the amulet, in its place on the back of his gauntlet where he'd fastened it when he'd reached Piltover. Get rid of the amulet? Ezreal's heart raced and his breathing shortened as panic washed over him. He clutched his left hand to his heart. Get rid of the amulet? The pain had faded from Ezreal's cheeks, but the scars still remained, as brightly red as they were when they were fresh. Before leaving the pyramid, he had gingerly washed the wounds with his limited water supply to prevent infection from the blade that had been who knew where. Get rid of the amulet? Reliving the memory of what he had been through . . . what he had suffered to get this amulet . . . this stone that he had been fated to possess, that he had discovered could channel his natural magical ability to unfathomably powerful concentrations . . . Get rid of the amulet?

"I can't," Ezreal choked, voice cracking. "It's . . . important. I can't get rid of it. I can't." His voice became so soft, the summoners could barely hear his last words. "It's precious."


End file.
